


Little Red Trenchcoat

by lovegonestale



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Anal Sex, Community: spnkink_meme, M/M, Stalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-22
Updated: 2010-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:25:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovegonestale/pseuds/lovegonestale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "Castiel is Little Red Riding Hood, only he's a 40-year old virgin who is sent to give a basket to his grandmother, Zachariah. Dean is the wolf. Bonus points if Dean sings Hello Little Girl from Into the Woods and if Sam is the hunter who kills Dean while he's having his way with Cas."</p><p>This fic fulfills all the requirements, but one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Red Trenchcoat

Castiel was being followed. He did not know how he knew this, exactly, because there was not a rustle nor a whisper in the woods around him. The sky was bright and the leaves green, but for a while now – since he’d crossed the bridge, at least – a strange blanket of silence had settled over the area. There were only the sounds of his own footsteps on the pathway; no birds chirping, no squirrels chattering.

He turned slowly to look around, but the forest offered none of its secrets.

The feeling only worsened as he pressed further into the thick trees, the pathway narrowing to smooth earth between the grass.

Eventually Castiel noticed that something else was breathing in a slow, heavy pant now audible on the edge of his hearing. There was something deliberate about it, like the owner was no longer trying to remain completely hidden.

“Who’s there?” he called out. “Show yourself!”

Finally, noise. An otherwise non-descript section of bushes stirred, and from them rose a man. Alert eyes, teeth too sharp in its bright smile, hair messy and spiked above slightly pointed ears. “Hey,” he said.

“Who are you?” Castiel asked suspiciously. “Where’d you come from?”

“I should be asking _you_ that,” said the strange man as he stepped over the bushes on light feet. Castiel could see a bushy tail that protruded from the back of his pants. “This is my neck of the woods you’re in.”

“Oh.” Castiel started. “Sorry, I’m just passing through.”

“To where?” He was drawing close, curiosity in every slow, elegant step. “There’s nothing around here but Zach’s house.”

“Zachariah is my grandmother,” Castiel said. “I haven’t seen him in a while, so I’m paying him a visit.”

“Oh…” He crouched down to the ground, as though that were his natural state, eyeline now level with Castiel’s basket. “That’s for him, then.” A slightly furred hand reached out for it.

Castiel smacked the paw away.

“Ow!”

“This is for my grandmother,” Castiel said, pulling the basket to himself.

The strange man whined softly. “I’m sorry. I just wanted a whiff. It smells _amazing_.”

“It’s apple pie,” Castiel said.

The man sat back on his haunches, mouth open a little. “Awesome.”

He crawled forward on all fours when Castiel slowly lowered himself down to his knees and opened the basket. The man pressed in close, nose bumping Castiel’s hand as tried to get a glimpse at the basket’s innards. The man slowly tilted his head up at Castiel and whined pathetically.

“That smells like heaven, right there,” he drawled.

He looked so hungry, the poor man, eyes glazed and pleading as they slowly roved over Castiel before resting on the hand a couple of inches away from his head.

Castiel had been brought up to be kind and generous, so he could not turn away from this poor soul. “I suppose I could give you a little. What’s your name?”

“Dean,” he said, sitting back and watching Castiel’s hands dip into the basket and take out the pie. “They call me Dean. How about you, Little Red Trenchcoat?”

Castiel bristled indignantly. “My mother made this coat for me.”

“It’s very nice,” Dean said, sounding very honest. His tail had curled around the edge of the coat, stroking the material gently. “Made it very easy to track you.”

“So you _were_ following me,” Castiel said, unsure how he felt about that.

Dean met his gaze slowly, eyes heated and nostrils flared. “Smelled good.”

“Very well.” Castiel cut out a piece of the pie. It didn’t seem polite to offer it on the serving knife, so he picked it up carefully with his fingers, ready to pass it over.

Only Dean’s mouth suddenly wrapped around the piece, lips sliding hot and tight around Castiel’s fingers. Blue eyes met green, something solid and strange passing between them as Dean flicked his tongue though the apple goodness to Castiel’s knuckles. Dean slowly let his lips drag over skin as pulled away, leaving crumbs, sauce and saliva in its wake.

It was suddenly very difficult to breathe, which was odd, because Castiel had never had asthma before.

“Very nice,” Dean said, eyes not leaving Castiel’s.

“That’s all you’re getting,” Castiel said firmly, taking out a handkerchief to wipe his fingers.

“Castiel?” Dean said, laughing softly. “Who the hell uses monogrammed stuff anymore?” Dean rolled around the ground, fangs glistening at the edge of his grin. “Sorry, man, that’s just hilarious.”

Castiel flushed, embarrassed in the face of this unusual man’s confident mirth. He got to his feet, and was stopped when Dean started pawing at his pants.

“Hey, don’t go,” Dean said. He clamped his teeth gently around cloth to tug playfully, tail wagging.

“You’ve very interesting,” Castiel admitted, intrigued by the way Dean was nuzzling his knee.

Dean glowed at the praise. “You know, you should totally bring your grandma some flowers. I know this awesome place you can pick some, it’s just a little way over there.”

Castiel looked at Dean with his eager-to-please eyes and swishing tail. “I don’t know…”

“I gotta say thank you for giving me a slice,” Dean insisted, though there was something almost cold about the way he’d said _slice_. “Consider that a bonus.”

“I suppose.”

Dean brought him there, bounding forward on all fours with a careless gait, the whole time humming something about pink and plump flesh, not that Castiel recognized the tune. True to his word, the place he brought Castiel to was filled with a variety of beautiful blooms. They would definitely brighten up Zachariah’s house.

“This is lovely,” Castiel said. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Don’t mention it.” Dean kept smiling and looking at Castiel, though there was no way he was going to get another helping of pie. Castiel watched as Dean drew closer and then unfolded himself, standing up like a slow sunrise tight in Castiel’s personal space until he was looming over him.

“You’re tall,” Castiel said, suddenly wary. Dean seemed bigger upright, arms and shoulders broader and more powerful.

“You’re kinda messy,” Dean said, paws landing on Castiel’s chest. “That’s no way to visit your grandmommy.” His fingers were blunt but sure as he plucked at Castiel’s shirt, tugging it straight and adjusting the tie.

Dean was a solid source of heat like a flame Castiel found himself drifting towards. Those fingers burned where they touched his neck and chin.

“There you go,” Dean said, voice low and husky.

“Thank you.”

Suddenly Dean jerked, one ear twitching as though he’d heard something. “Okay, got to go. You have a good time at your grannie’s, y’hear.”

Castiel opened his mouth, ready to ask Dean to stay so he wouldn’t be lonely for the rest of his walk, but Dean had already leapt over the bushes and disappeared.

The rest of the journey to Zachariah’s house was uneventful. The woods felt alive around Castiel again, though he felt a little sad that he didn’t have company. The only break in the silence of his walk came when a hunter popped up, asking if Castiel had seen a wolf-man around. He was even taller than Dean, but shaggy-haired. Castiel told that he’d met Dean a ways back, and the hunter went off in that direction.

The house was quiet in its little glen when Castiel arrived. He hadn’t been there in a long time but it hadn’t changed much. He knocked politely, getting a faint, “Who is it?” to which he answered, “It’s Castiel, grandmother” before lifting the latch and stepping inside.

It was dark, for the curtains were all drawn. There was a strange smell in the air which Castiel chalked up to Zachariah being ill, as that also explained the closed windows.

“You’re not feeling well, grandmother?” Castiel asked as he searched for an empty vase to put the wildflowers he’d picked.

“Yes,” Zachariah said, voice a hoarse whisper that drifted over from the bed. “Come over here, Castiel, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

Castiel obeyed, going over to the bed. He couldn’t see his grandmother, for he was tucked under layers of blankets in the huge bed. Castiel placed the lukewarm pie on the bedside table, besides the vase of fresh flowers.

The blankets shifted, one corner falling away to reveal a pair of eyes in the shadows.

“Grandmother,” said Castiel, “What big eyes you have.”

Those eyes blinked lazily. “All the better to see you with.” Maybe it was a trick of the dim lighting, because it was almost as if those eyes were green.

Castiel cut the pie carefully. The blanket fell away further, Zachariah sniffing the sweet aroma.

“Grandmother,” said Castiel, “What a big nose you have.”

“All the better to smell you with.” The nose twitched.

The air felt unexpectedly charged. Castiel’s hands were trembling as he finished cutting the pie, pulling out a slice and setting it on a plate. He started to bring it to the bed when the blankets shifted again.

“Grandmother,” Castiel said uneasily, “What big teeth you have.”

Castiel knew that grin.

“All the better to… You know what, fuck it.” Dean flung the blankets off.

Castiel dropped the plate with a clatter and started to run, but huge hands were on him in an instant, grabbing and pulling. Castiel twisted, pushed and kicked but Dean’s hands were like iron. A casual shove had Castiel flat on the bed, face planted on the blankets and the huge insistent weight of Dean climbing on top of him.

“Dean!” Castiel cried out, failing to push him off. Dean was strong, and Castiel’s hands were caught swiftly and pressed against his lower back. Castiel realized with horror that Dean was holding him down _one-handedly_, the other hand pushing sharp nails into the cloth of his pants to rip it away. “Dean, no, stop!”

“Much better than the dirty forest floor, huh?” Dean said, breath hot and intimate against Castiel’s neck. “Been thinking about this since the moment I saw you, smelled you.”

A quick rip and Castiel’s pants were undone, buttocks bared to the air. Castiel tried to choke out another protest but he felt buried alive, Dean a solid wall against his back.

“Been hard for _hours_,” Dean hissed. “Feel this.”

Something hot and silken pressed between Castiel’s cheeks, sweeping boldly across his opening. Castiel blanched, for no one had ever touched him there like this. He wriggled, trying to break free but that just made Dean laugh and start rutting against him.

“Knew you’d be like this,” Dean said. “I knew it.”

The weight lifted. Dean was moving away and grabbing something from the side table. The smell of apples hit Castiel’s nose and Dean’s fingers were coated with stickiness when they pressed against his opening. Castiel gasped when he realized what it was, the heat of the fresh-baked filling suddenly _inside_ him when those fingers plunged in.

The fingers were huge, forcing Castiel open. He pushed and he tried to twist away but those fingers still fucked him steadily. Dean was making pleased, snuffing noises against his back, nuzzling the skin between teasing, possessive bites.

“Yeah, baby,” Dean groaned. “Yeah, give it to me, you’re so hot, gonna lose myself in you. Yeah, squeeze me just like that, gonna be so sweet inside you.”

Castiel whined a no, he didn’t want it, not like this, he didn’t want that intruder that was pressed against him now, taking the place of the fingers. He tried to say so out loud but there was no breath to spare and he was choking on cloth.

Dean was inside him. That enormous, blunt thing was Dean’s penis pushing into him, swelling deep and angry in his most intimate places in a burning stretch.

“Virgin, fuck yeah!” Dean laughed. “I knew it! I knew you were! No one’s been in here, have they? _You_ probably haven’t been in here, what a waste, what a _fucking_ waste!” He made an ecstatic yipping sound, high in the moment. “Sweet little Cas, yeah, choke on my cock, you’re so fucking tight!”

It hurt and it burned. Castiel just no more energy to fight. Dean was this powerful being that plunged into him frenetically and without mercy, cruel in his claiming of Castiel’s body like the animal he was.

“Oh yeah, oh yeah,” Dean panted, “Your juicy little ass, I’m gonna fuck you to pieces. Give it to me, give it to me, Cas!”

The frantic pace of Dean’s member stabbing again and again was starting to make that area numb. Castiel decided that he could ride it, wait for Dean’s climax and then it would be over. Then he wouldn’t have to think about the how when Dean’s penis hit something inside Castiel it sent unwanted shivers up his spine, slipping past the pain to make his toes curl. He did not want that, just as he did not want his body to get used to the intrusion.

“You’re so clean, Cas,” Dean chuckled, close to hysterics. “So clean, gonna make you dirty, gonna make you dirty all over.”

All Castiel had to do was wait. He shut his eyes.

Dean howled his climax.

Castiel started to sigh with relief, but then Dean clamped teeth into his shoulder, breaking skin, and so Castiel screamed, while Dean howled and laughed.

There was a bang of the front door suddenly opening, light spilling into the house. A man was there, his silhouette tall against brightness of the outdoors. The hunter! He had a gun, and he was pointing it at Dean.

“Hey, Sam,” Dean slurred. He had not stopped fucking Castiel through the slowing of his orgasm.

“Dean, stop,” Sam said. He cocked his gun. “Dean, stop!”

Castiel just caught at the corner of his eye Dean raising his free hand, middle finger outstretched.

The gunshot was loud. Castiel couldn’t turn, but he felt the sudden slack of the hand holding his wrists.

Dean let out a pained grunt. “You shot me, Sammy,” he said accusingly.

The hunter stepped forward, close enough that the gun was right in Dean’s face. Castiel gasped as Dean slipped out him.

Suddenly Dean growled and leapt. Hunter and man-wolf grappled, kicking and punching and snarling until Dean got his mouth around the shotgun and flung it across the room. He kicked Sam to the ground, punching him a few times before standing up and looking at Castiel.

“Hey, Cas?” There was blood along Dean’s chest from where the bullet entered his shoulder. Below, his cock was soft and satisfied between his legs. “I know your taste now,” he said. Then he ran out the front door, yipping all the way.

Castiel remained where he was while Sam chased after Dean. Castiel lay still and quiet, trying and not quite succeeding in getting his breath back.

Returning footsteps made him freeze up. He relaxed a little when he saw that it was Sam. His expression of frustration revealed that Dean had escaped, but he quickly soothed it over as he approached Castiel cautiously.

“Hey …” Sam trailed off. “Can you walk?”

“I don’t think so,” Castiel confessed.

Sam got some fresh blankets from a cupboard and carefully wrapped Castiel up before carrying him out the door. “I’ll get you to the village, don’t worry.”


End file.
